


Can't Fight This Feeling

by AlleiraDayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cliffhanger, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake Pregnancy, Fluff, Haunted House, Hunting, smut implied, vulgarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 03:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: Dean and his long time hunting partner pose as a couple buying a house to sneak in and cleanse it.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Can't Fight This Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> For SPN Fluff Bingo 2019, this fills the square Fake Dating.

“This one,” Dean said. “This is it. I can feel it.”

Y/N turned in a slow circle, eyes wide and jaw gaping as she marveled the giant ballroom. And Dean couldn’t help but stare, his heart overflowing at the sight of her childlike wonder.

The realtor had crossed the massive floor to open far curtains, allowing in more light. Deep oak grain shimmered golden brown in the bright spring sun angled across the planks. More ornate wood lined the walls and a massive hearth of granite and wood consumed the entirety of the furthest wall.

“We’ll take it.”

The realtor looked up from her tablet, hesitant. “I'm sorry?”

Dean neared Y/N and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She said we want to buy the house.”

The realtor scanned the ballroom as though she might find the punchline to their joke hidden somewhere in it. “But you've not seen the rest of the house? There’s three wings!”

Y/N grinned as she looked up to Dean, and he smiled back at her. “I'm sure it’s beautiful. But we’re in a bit of a hurry,” he said as he reached for Y/N's still flat belly. “Need time to get settled in before we’re too busy. Right, Y/N?”

She turned into him and smoothed her hand over his on her belly. “Yeah, we’ll need time to get the nursery put together,” she agreed.

When Dean regarded her, Y/N looked up to him, her smile matching his, toothy and wide. “So, do you think we could seal the deal today?” he asked the realtor.

He might as well have slapped her. Vicky remained frozen by the nearest window still holding the curtain she had drawn. She shook her head as though to clear it, then said, “I… yes. But it’ll have to get a hold of the seller’s realtor and—”

“Wonderful,” Dean mused. “Whatever you need to do, that’s fine, we’ll wait. After all, we need to look at the rest of the house.”

The realtor nodded as she headed for the towering double doors at the far end of the ballroom. “I just… need to go make a few phone calls, get things started. Feel free to explore,” she said with a flat smile.

Dean and Y/N remained in their place until Vicky rounded the door. After a second, Y/N raced across the room on light footsteps, peeked over the frame, and Dean waited. When Y/N turned back with a thumbs-up, she said, “She’s gone. I can hear her talking downstairs, but we’ve got probably twenty minutes.”

“Awesome,” he said as he tossed her two hex bags. “Corners.”

She caught them and turned back to the far end of the ballroom. “Nice work with the fake pregnancy.”

Dean stopped short of the floor as he knelt, a pang in his chest catching his breath. “Yeah,” he started. “Thought it would make the relationship convincing. Not to mention our wanting to buy a three-million-dollar house after only seeing one room.”

Her bright laughter echoed through the empty ballroom, much to Dean’s dismay. “Relationship. Ha! As if we would ever be in a friggin’ relationship.”

He tried to laugh. Dammit, he had to, like he had to hide the way he felt about Y/N for the last six months. “Yeah. Hilarious,” he said though a short chuckle.

Though he had kept his focus on their work—cleansing a haunted house was hard enough to begin with—Dean couldn’t help but glance out of the corner of his eye at Y/N across the ballroom. Everything she did, from the intent and dedication with which she worked, to the little tune she hummed to herself as she flitted about the ballroom, Dean adored. Despite his very strong attachment to her, he had kept his feelings to himself for so long, there would be no point in ruining the friendship. With his luck, she most likely viewed him like a little brother. Even worse, he had noticed her eyeing Sam in recent weeks. And he wasn’t about to get in the way of that.

“Hey, baby.”

Y/N’s mocking voice sounded over his shoulder as he finalized the hex bags. When he looked, he found her draped in one of the gaudy curtains, the sleeves of her t-shirt and legs of her pants rolled up and hidden to so she appeared naked.

“What are you doing?”

She dropped the curtain as she scoffed. “I was just… it’s such a ridiculous house. Can you imagine the parties? All the people that made out in these god-awful curtains?” she said as she flipped a hand at the fabric.

Dean shrugged. “Sure,” he said with a half-hearted laugh. “I guess.”

Y/N glared at him. “What’s your deal? Ever since the realtor left, you’ve been all depressed. Did you like her? Did you think she was cute?”

“What?!” Dean barked. “No! I just… I’m focused, okay? We’ve only got ten minutes to finish this shit.”

Y/N held up her hands as she backed away. “Jeeze. Sorry I asked. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Wait,” he said as he stood. “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said, “I get it, you’re busy, I’m bothering you. I’ll leave you—”

He grabbed her wrist as she turned for the other end of the ballroom. “No. You’re not bothering me. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Her casual shrug broke his heart. “Nah, dude, it’s fine. I know when I’m not wanted—”

He hardly had to pull. Y/N fell into his arms with barely a tug of her wrist. If he had any say in the matter, Y/N had wanted him to do it, ready and waiting. And when his lips landed on hers, Y/N melted in his embrace, arms and legs giving way to his wants. Thank God she kissed him back, her tongue diving into his mouth with equal fervor. Though regret plagued him, Dean reveled in the euphoria that was Y/N’s affection as she returned his kiss. Rough hands groped and pulled at impeding fabric, grasped at hair and neck and hands, both so eager for more. They had to do something, make up for lost time, for the months he had wasted burying his wants so deep. He was about to pull her shirt overhead, the hem gathered in his hands, when the realtor returned.

“I just got off the phone with the seller’s—”

Y/N rolled her head over her shoulder as she looked back to the far door, but she made no effort to leave Dean’s arms or find any semblance of propriety in Vicky’s presence. “Sorry,” she started as she placed a hand to Dean’s chest. “We were so happy… we just… couldn’t wait.”

Dean wondered how much of that statement was a lie. If she felt anything close to the way he did, she hadn’t lied at all. If he had a say, they wouldn’t make it back to the Bunker tonight. And thankfully, the warmer weather had picked up, so a night in the Impala with the woman he had fallen in love with so many months ago sounded like the perfect ending to their hunt.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he started. “We should get going. Call us when you’ve got the details ironed out? We can take a look at the rest of the house another day.”

Vicky raised a curious eyebrow as she regarded them both. “Uh… sure. Everything will be ready to sign in a few days. In the meantime, you could—”

“Thanks, Vicky,” Dean said as he passed her, Y/N by his side. “Look forward to hearing from you.”

Vicky said nothing as Dean patted her shoulder. Outside the ballroom, they took the stairs and, when sufficiently out of earshot, raced down the remaining flight to bolt out of the door. Dean hopped into the driver's seat of the Impala parked at the bottom of the steps, and Y/N jumped into the passenger seat hot on his heels.

Baby roared to life, the radio blasting REO Speedwagon, and Dean wasted no time tossing the shifter into reverse and slamming on the gas. Gravel sprayed in a wide arc as he threw the wheel to the right and the car banked hard to the left, spinning about face. The Impala lurched forward when he wrenched the shifter into drive and put foot to the floor, tires spinning in the dirt until they bit solid ground and emerged on the empty county highway.

They rode in silence for several minutes until Y/N shut off the radio. “What just happened?”

“I think we forgot to actually cleanse the house,” Dean groaned.

“Not that!” Y/N shrieked. “You kissed me!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t hear any complaints, sweetheart,” Dean barked. “In fact, I remember your tongue in my mouth.”

“What?!” she shouted. “Fuck this noise, pull over, Dean. Right now!”

He would never know exactly why he obeyed her command but pull over he did. The car lumbered over the shoulder and into the dirt around a bend, almost entirely out of sight from the road. Dean slammed the shifter into park and turned to look at Y/N to find her face flush and chest heaving with her rapid breath.

God help him, but he couldn’t. He stared openly, enthralled by the steady rise and fall of her tits. The urge to touch, to feel, to bury his face in her, all of her, overwhelmed him, threatened to ruin everything. But he resisted despite the deep ache between his legs.

“Do it.”

He blinked, once, then twice. “Do what?” he asked.

Y/N visibly softened as her shoulders slumped. “I want you. And you want me. So, do it.”

He hesitated a breath a breath too long. Y/N grabbed his hands and jerked him to her breasts.

“Fuck me, Dean.”


End file.
